


i could just leave it wrong (and you can't make it right)

by Eorlingas



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Season 3 Speculation, is it angst, is it crack, we may never know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-19
Updated: 2015-07-19
Packaged: 2018-04-10 01:32:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4371986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eorlingas/pseuds/Eorlingas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Making Out With the Enemy: Bad Idea, or Really, Really, Really Bad Idea?</p>
<p> <br/>This kind of thing should come with a manual.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i could just leave it wrong (and you can't make it right)

**Author's Note:**

> prompt: Skyeward: things you said after you kissed me + things you said too quietly

Being the equivalent of a superhero ain’t all it’s cracked up to be.

Not only do you have to deal with learning to control your powers and secret identities, there’s like, a bunch of extra shit that nobody warns you about? Like, who knew it mattered what kind of underwear you were wearing when saving the world? Skye definitely did not. Honestly, you’d think with how many powered folk are zipping around these days, that someone would have written some kind of guide.

Skye’s been mentally composing a list of topics she thinks said-guide should cover:

 

1\. If You Can’t Fly, You Don’t Need A Cape.

2\. Come Up With Your Own Name Before Some Idiot On the Internet Does It For You.

3\. Always Have a Spare Everything.

4\. First Aid Self-Administration 101

5\. Sidekicks: Do You Really Need One?

 

It’s going to be great - that is, if she ever gets a chance to write it. On second thought, maybe the whole ‘the world is constantly in a state of emergency and I have to save it’ thing is why nobody else has done it yet.

Skye wonders for the millionth time if evil ever takes a chill day.

Which brings her to her latest addition:

 

Making Out With the Enemy: Bad Idea, or Really, Really, _Really_ Bad Idea?

 

Because she knows it’s one of those, truly. But as she tugs at Ward’s lower lip with her teeth a little harder than strictly necessary and she can actually _feel_ the groan it elicits, it kinda feels like a pretty fucking awesome idea.

This isn’t what she came for, really, it isn’t. She’s got a mission and an objective, damn it. Help neutralize the threat, secure the 084 and get out, all while keeping the action directed away from civilians.

 

She had checked off items one and four on her to-do list and was about to set on item two when, as was becoming all too usual these days, Grant Ward had turned up to throw a wrench in her plans.

“This may come as a shock to you, Skye, but this isn’t actually about you,” he had informed her calmly when she had expressed her frustration.

“So what, you just casually walk into alien invasions now?” she had asked skeptically. “You have a death wish or something?”

“Or something,” he had agreed, turning away from her.

He had remained generally distant and _bored_ and it had pissed her off to a maybe unreasonable degree. She had aimed a blast of power at the ground beneath his feet that sent him sprawling, and he’d actually had the gall to _laugh at her._

 

She was gonna kick his ass.

 

Skye’s still not totally sure what, in the slamming of fists and elbows and knees that had ensued, had prompted her to slam her mouth against Ward’s.

Maybe it’s a strategic move to catch him off-guard and get him to release her from where he has her pinned against the brick of a slightly dilapidated building.

(Maybe it’s because she hates the dead look in his eyes and wants him to _wake up, damn it._ )

As strategy goes, it’s not particularly effective, as he holds her _much tighter._

(But, oh, he’s awake now.)

 

Skye’s determined not to be undermined even as an involuntary gasp escapes her as he moves his attentions to her neck. Ward breathes a laugh against her skin that turns into a hiss as she scrapes her fingernails deliberately across the back of his neck and she registers a dim sense of satisfaction.

This needs to stop. She needs to end this.

Skye’s hands trail slowly down to his chest and come to rest just over his heart.

 

Ward stills for only a moment before pressing one last, chaste kiss to where her pulse beats wildly in her throat. The tenderness of the gesture is offset by the brittle look in his eyes as he pulls back to meet hers.

Ward glances down at where her hands still rest on his chest. He contemplates them for a moment before looking back up at her, something indefinable in his gaze.

“So what are you waiting for? Do it.” Something clenches in her stomach and she averts her gaze just over his left shoulder at the aftermath of their battle as he continues. “Come on, Skye. It’s been a long time since you had trouble pulling the trigger.”

Skye tries to find condemnation in his voice, tries to put some heat behind her glare - but she can’t. Suddenly she’s very tired.

“Let me go, Ward,” she says, but it isn’t so much a demand as a quiet plea.

“I’m not the one holding on, Skye,” he says, his voice equally low.

And sure enough, her fists are balled in his shirt.

 

She releases her grip and he steps back. Skye hates the ache that blooms in her chest as he does so. Hates _him._

 

(Hates that killing him would be entirely justifiable and as easy as snapping her fingers and she can’t do it.)

 

“I hate you,” she tells him, because she feels like she should. The words sound flat even to her own ears.

He nods, too much understanding in his gaze. “I know.”

They stand in silence for a time, the sound of far-off emergency vehicles the only thing breaking the quiet. He’s still close enough that Skye could reach out and touch him if she wanted to. But she doesn’t want to. _She doesn’t._

 

“You should get out of here,” Ward says finally, and the exhaustion that she feels seems to have overtaken him as well.

Skye shakes her head. She still has an objective to fulfill.

“It’s not here.”

Skye narrows her eyes at him, yet doesn’t bother to ask how he knows this. _He’s Hydra_ , her brain reminds her helpfully, but it’s with significantly less vitriol than usual. “Then why are you here?” she asks instead, some of the challenge creeping back into her voice.

He shrugs. “Call it closure.”

“I thought you said this wasn’t about me.”

Ward’s mouth curves into something like a half-smile, the meaning of which she’s uncertain. “It wasn’t.”

It doesn’t occur to her to disbelieve him. After all, he had promised her. She’s not sure why that carries any weight anymore, but somehow it does.

“When did you stop?” The words are out of her mouth almost before she knows what she means by them. He goes still and she shakes her head almost violently and peels herself off the wall. She doesn’t want to hear the answer.

 

_“When you put four bullets in my side.”_

 

_“When you left me for dead.”_

 

_“When I realized you weren’t worth it.”_

 

Pushing past him, she doesn’t hear his response. Even if she had, she wouldn't have registered its implications until hours later, assessing her own wounds in the light of the bathroom aboard the Quinjet Coulson had assigned to her for Project Caterpillar. If she had, she would have taken in the small bruise forming just below her jawline and know that there’s no how-to guide in the universe that could emphasize enough how well and truly screwed she is.

 

_“I didn’t.”_


End file.
